


Super Pals

by falsteloj



Category: Superman (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, M/M, One Shot Collection, Romance, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-09
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-20 17:30:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/587923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsteloj/pseuds/falsteloj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various oneshots, drabbles, etc, Mostly Clark/Jimmy because, aside from the availability of hallucinogenic drugs, that's what I took away from 'Superman's Pal Jimmy Olsen'...</p><p>1. (<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/587923/chapters/1057661">Quick Link</a>) Based on a Queerfest prompt: Any Fandom with Alternate Universes, any characters, Character X learns that an alternate version of them is/was in a same-sex relationship and begins to question their sexuality.</p><p>2. (<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/587923/chapters/1057016">Quick Link</a>) 'He hopes old Bill on the obit desk doesn't forget to mention how he went out wisecracking.'</p><p>3. (<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/587923/chapters/1639879">Quick Link</a>) Jimmy and Superman's friendship isn't all it's cracked up to be... Because this is my headcanon explanation for pretty much the entire run of Superman's Pal Jimmy Olsen.</p><p>4. (<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/587923/chapters/20119018">Quick Link</a>) For the prompt: 'something like Jimmy has an crush on Superman (and of course doesn't know that it's Clark) and tells Clark about sexual fantasy he has with him and Superman... and Clark maybe makes it come true.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mirror Image

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on a Queerfest prompt: Any Fandom with Alternate Universes, any characters, Character X learns that an alternate version of them is/was in a same-sex relationship and begins to question their sexuality.

It's just another insanity inducing day in Metropolis when Jimmy Olsen finds himself standing nose to nose with his counterpart from an alternate dimension.

"Well that's never happened before," says the Einstein who's running the joint, even as his lab assistant rushes forward, peering and prodding like he's some kind of guinea pig. "It must have something to do with your powers, Superman."

What a shocker, Jimmy thinks, because it's not like they've ever been the cause of embarrassment and misery for him before this incident.

"Jeepers!" His double exclaims, because apparently a rift in the time/space continuum only makes him more of a dork, "Is it permanent?"

That doesn't even bear thinking about.

"It'll take a few days to put right," Einstein says, voice thick with false confidence.

And, just like that, he's forcing himself to be a gentleman and offer to be the Olsen to sleep on the couch, knotted up under the ratty spare blanket.

* * *

"Golly, this must have cost a fortune," is what Jimmy wakes up to the following morning. It's accompanied with great sticky fingerprints all over his latest camera, though Jimmy moves from the couch to the kitchenette in record time, in an attempt to rescue it.

It's not that he dislikes the guy on instinct or anything - though he does - it's that he's read the comics and seen the movies. You shouldn't have to hang out with your double; you only end up changing history, or messing up your future, or waking up the morning after they've been teleported back to wherever it is they came from to find that you're sprouting an extra head from your armpit.

Aloud he says, tactfully, "It's probably best if you don't touch anything. Better to be safe than sorry, eh?"

Jimmy Mark II's face falls, and then settles straight back into a placid grin. Jimmy really hopes he's not that much of an idiot.

"Will Superman be here soon?" He asks then, right out of nowhere, and Jimmy raises an eyebrow, makes to say more, but then the door goes and he realises he's wearing nothing but a pair of threadbare boxers.

It's so not his morning.

* * *

 "And that's when you - I mean Superman, my Superman - worked out which bakery they were holding me in. I guess they figured there'd be a lot of _dough_ in kidnapping Superman's Pal."

Superman laughs and Jimmy scowls, muttering darkly to his laptop screen as he turns in his anything-but-the-truth copy on the mix-up at the research facility. Nobody listens to him, not even when his advice is eminently sensible.

Nobody even bothered to ask if he minded hosting Boy Wonder for the duration. The kid is younger than him, years younger, by Jimmy's reckoning, and if he hears the phrase 'Superman's Pal' one more time he isn't going to be held accountable for his actions. He's a prize winning photojournalist, not some Z-list sidekick.

"It sounds like you and the Superman in your dimension get along swell," Superman says, and Jimmy can feel alien blue eyes on the back of his neck, so intense it sends shivers through him.

So he's jealous of the kid, it's not that big a deal. It's not like he'd give his shutter finger to be wingman to Superman ( _Clark_ ) with some Kryptonian version of speed dial wrapped around his wrist. No way, he totally digs watching him make calf eyes at Lois and laughing when villain of the week knocks him to his ass right in the middle of a kid's paddling pool at Bongo Bob's Bouncetopia.

"Is this still about what happened at the Adventure World opening?" Clark asks, too intuitive, when it's time for him to hotfoot it back to the Planet, and Jimmy refuses to accept that he's actually being kind of ridiculous.

"I just got better things to do than babysit myself, Clark," he answers, half hiss, half whisper, torn by the way Clark's eyes widen, because they don't know exactly how much Jimmy the Younger knows about his 'ol Pal, Superman.

They stare each other down for a moment, two, and then Clark says, all civil, "I know it must be weird. I'll pop 'round again this evening."

Jimmy slams the door shut in frustration.

* * *

The tension's thick enough to cut with a knife by the time Clark reappears, rapping at his window and touching down gracefully, all suited and booted and making Jimmy's heart pound so hard he's half afraid he's headed for a heart attack.

He slams and bangs more than is strictly necessary while fixing some dinner, and then pushes his food around his plate as Clark keeps up a constant stream of conversation with his counterpart, feeling wounded and hard done by.

It's one thing to have a rival, but when it's yourself Jimmy's not sure what there is you can do about it.

"Professor Bielawski says they're making good progress," Clark tells them both before he leaves, and Jimmy says nothing then spends the rest of the evening wishing he had done.

Perhaps it's guilt which makes him sleep fitfully, perhaps it's the lumpy stuffing in his sofa cushions. Either way his watch reads 3:15am when he wakes to the quiet sound of sobbing.

It's him - well, not him exactly - and he gropes his way into his bedroom and hits the lights, suddenly feeling a bit of an A-grade asshole.

"Sorry," his doppelganger snivels, swiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. "It's just, what if they can't fix it, and I'm stuck here, and -"

"It's gonna be alright," Jimmy says, and pats him awkwardly on the shoulder. He hadn't really been considering it from anything but his own viewpoint. "Superman will make sure of it."

The boy nods, though his arms are wrapped around his knees and he doesn't lift his head up.

"I miss him."

"He'll drop by in the morning," Jimmy offers, out of his depth, and it isn't until he's back on the couch that he really starts thinking about the emotion behind that statement.

* * *

Clark does drop by, to give them updates, and to reassure him that Perry knows he's on a special assignment for Superman and he hasn't decided he doesn't need a regular wage or anything. For once Jimmy can't even think of a joke to make about it.

Instead he watches his other self like a hawk, and doesn't know what he feels when he has it confirmed, in the way the boy's gaze follows Clark, and the way he keeps stopping himself, at the last moment, from reaching out and touching him.

He'd have probably settled for angsting about it, then shelling out for more therapy, but the days turn into a week and the kid drinks himself into a state while he's out for next to no time, getting some fresh air and some groceries.

Clark, for once, answers his cell phone, and Jimmy wastes no time in telling him that this is all his fault, and he had better come and help because he's not punching himself in the face to keep him from wandering unsupervised all across Metropolis.

He's clearly not much of a drinker in the dimension the kid hails from, because he's sloppy, and sobbing, and when Clark gets there he clings to him like a limpet and slurs about how much he loves him. Clark goes beet red, but takes it better than expected, convincing the kid to lie down and sleep it off.

Afterwards they both sit on his crummy couch, looking anywhere but at each other.

"Did you know?" Clark asks eventually, and it's definitely Clark speaking, not Superman.

Jimmy shrugs and risks glancing across at him. "I had an idea."

The world seems to narrow down to just the two of them, and Jimmy can scarcely breathe because it's like they're standing on the precipice of something big, something life changing - And then, then, there's the sound of someone chucking their guts up all over his bedroom carpet and the spell is well and truly broken.

* * *

24 hours earlier the Professor could have got in touch and it would have been just another episode he couldn't tell anyone about without ending up in a straitjacket. But, no, the guy had waited an extra day just to be sure, so Jimmy's keeping a safe distance and trying not to worry about what's going to happen once lil' Jimmy's packed off back home to his own Superman.

The kid's looking green around the gills, but there's no lasting damage, and when the strange static feeling passes back over him, Jimmy wishes the kid well, and feels like a better man for meaning it.

He's slightly unsteady on his feet after the process, and Clark lays a steadying hand on his shoulder, the heat sending entirely inappropriate thrills through him.

Jimmy's all set to head back to the office, because his in-tray is bound to be overflowing and someone will have stolen his chair and replaced it with the one with the dodgy backrest, but Clark's hand stays where it is, right down the corridor and into some disused looking room with half drawn blinds at the window.

"This has to be one of the stranger things that's happened to us," Clark jokes, but his eyes are serious. Jimmy does his best to suck it up like a man and get it over with.

"It's alright, I'm not going to tell anyone you're ga-ga about me in some alternate dimension."

It's meant to raise a laugh but he just sounds bitter, and Clark flushes a little, so Jimmy has to squirm and look away, lest Clark realise just what the sight has the power to do to him.

"It's not -" Clark starts, shakes his head. "It just, it made me think. I mean, if it had been me I would have, but you might not have, I mean -"

The conversation's all over the place, so Jimmy makes do with frowning at Clark in confusion. He doesn't speak stilted Kansasian. Clark sucks in a breath, posture getting straighter as he meets his eye.

"I'd miss you if it had been me. Would you miss me, do you think?"

It starts to sink in then, making him half numb and half jubilant, and Jimmy pinches himself hard enough to sting as he asks, "Are you sure we're both in the right dimension now, you're not about to turn into some unblinking reptile thing?"

"Quite sure," Clark says, blinking as he looks about himself.

Jimmy grins, and it's not as placid or as wholesome as the expression had been on his doppelganger, but he's checked the look out in the mirror and thinks it's got its charms, nonetheless. "Good," he says, half breathless, and steps in close until he can wind a hand around the back of Clark's neck and kiss him. Clark kisses back, hesitant then surer, and presses closer and closer until not being in a public place becomes a top priority.

The Professor waves at them on the way out, and Jimmy waves back, unironically. He owes the guy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	2. Mirror Image

**First**

"Where's your good pal Superman now then?"

It's not the first time Jimmy's heard that question. It's not even the first time he's found himself on his knees, the cold barrel of a Glock pressed tight against his temple.

Being best friends with Metropolis' favourite superhero is just full of little perks like that.

"Hell of a time to have a falling out, wasn't it?" is the response Jimmy goes with. A) because he's got a reputation to maintain and, more importantly, B) because they were stupid enough not to think to search him for a tape recorder. He hopes old Bill on the obit desk doesn't forget to mention how he went out wisecracking.

All he gets for his trouble in the present is a boot to the ribs, and a reminder that the rope around his wrists first broke skin over an hour ago. A rough hand threatens to yank his hair right out of his scalp, pulling his head back until he can barely swallow, and he's forced to look up into bloodshot eyes.

His skin crawls because the guy's smirking, all bad breath and filthy promises.

"Kid, this ain't the time to be playing the comedian."

* * *

**Fingers**

"You know, you didn't have to take the scenic route," Jimmy quips, and Clark has to clench his fingers into a fist just to remember himself, because Jimmy's voice isn't steady, and the guy in front of him is still rescuing his pants from around his ankles.

He concentrates on breathing, in and out, and not inflicting any damage that's fatal, though he desperately wants to.

Growing up he had fought a constant battle for dominance. Not with his peers, because his Pa always told him that violence could never resolve a problem, and not with his parents, because they were too good, and too old and too frail.

The fight was with himself, between what he knew was right, and the whispers which told him, over and over, that right wasn't what he wanted. Between Clark Kent and the darkness he later came to call Kal-El, the super being who didn't care too much about truth, or justice, or any of the other values of small town Kansas.

As Superman, Clark thinks, he's found a compromise.

Except Jimmy's bruised and bloodied, and it's all too obvious what would have happened had he arrived just a few minutes later.

"You saved my life. Again." Jimmy tells him, breathless and half adoring, even as he winces in pain, teeth sinking into his lower lip with the effort of standing.

It's all Clark can do to stay in control of himself.

He wants to beat something to a pulp. He wants to pull Jimmy close and take things from him he has no right to. He wants to be free of the burning under his skin, the desperate need to do _something_.

It's only the way Jimmy's looking at him that keeps him from falling.

It makes him feel like a hero.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	3. Jimmy and Superman's friendship isn't all it's cracked up to be...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because this is my headcanon explanation for pretty much the entire run of Superman's Pal Jimmy Olsen...

"Did you really meet Superman?" Bobby asked, all wide eyed, and Jimmy couldn't help but grin as he smoothed down the edges of the latest Superman clipping into his scrapbook.

"I sure did. And I took his photograph."

In truth it was less of a meeting and more of a rescue, and the photograph was little more than a blur, but Bobby was suitably awed by his answer.

"I'm still not sure I like the idea," Mr Harris, Bobby's father, said as he finished off the last of his dinner. "Nobody knows who the man is."

Mrs Harris hmmed distractedly, and Mrs Schneider, the landlady of their boarding house, only continued with her knitting.

Jimmy frowned but said nothing, and took his scrapbook back up to his room.

Superman was a hero.

And he, Jimmy Olsen, would prove it.

* * *

His photograph of Superman made the front page, and the Chief finally promoted him from copy boy and dogsbody, to cub reporter and coffee boy.

Jimmy could hardly contain his excitement - it meant he was working right alongside (well, in the same room, at least) as the likes of Clark Kent and Lois Lane. Miss Lane took him to his very first crime scene, and Mr Kent asked for him specially, on a day that started with a puff piece and ended with him helping Superman catch an armed robber.

Helped, perhaps was a strong word, but he had been present, and if the story got exaggerated in the telling it was no matter, because Bobby was only eight years old, and nobody else at the boarding house ever listened to him.

In fact, over the next few weeks the story continued to build and build, until he and Superman were super pals, and Superman had even given him a super secret signal watch, just in case of emergencies.

"I wish I could meet Superman," Bobby told him, wistful, and Jimmy ruffled his hair and smiled,

"Maybe one day, kid."

* * *

In retrospect it was obviously a stupid thing to do, but Jimmy liked having someone look up to him. Liked it all the more when he got ribbed for being too young, and too green, and altogether too trusting.

He was on the receiving end of one such razing the first time he saw her. Miss Lane told them to knock it off, that she was trying to talk to her sister, and even the flush of embarrassment at having to have someone else stand up for him couldn't keep Jimmy from coming over lovesick.

He ran into her again, with her beau, when he was sitting for Bobby and all four of them were in the foyer of the cinema.

"This your date, Olsen?" Dan Draper asked, grinning just like he did back in the newsroom, and before he could think up a quip of his own Bobby was saying,

"You shouldn't talk to Jimmy like that. He's a pal of Superman's."

Dan laughed, Lucy raised an eyebrow, and Jimmy flushed a shade he was sure was doing nothing for his freckles.

"That right?"

"Yeah," Bobby answered for him. "He's got a secret signal watch to contact him and everything."

And, just like that, somehow he'd agreed to meet the pair of them in the park on Saturday to prove just how close he and Superman really were.

* * *

Jimmy scarcely slept that night, nor the next, and on Friday morning he found himself asking Clark, awkwardly,

"Have you ever let a white lie grow out of control?"

Clark coughed, but listened, and clapped him on the shoulder when they got back to the office so that Jimmy felt a whole world better, in spite of still not having a solution to the problem.

He contemplated just not going, but Bobby hadn't forgotten, and over breakfast it seemed the worse option to have to explain it all to the Harrises, and Mrs Schneider, and Mr Hill who kept himself to himself and never said a word to anyone.

It was up for reassessment by the time he reached the park, and found that there was no way out of it. He was blushing so hard it hurt, Lucy looking down at him haughtily, and he tried to stutter out one excuse after another.

"Superman is a very busy man." Jimmy fussed with his (very normal) watch, and tried not to look at the crowd Dan had rounded up to complete his humiliation. "I mean, er, sometimes it takes a few attempts before he can hear it."

Things were desperate enough for him to contemplate simply making a run for it when, suddenly, a commotion broke out all around him.

"It's him," someone pointed, and Dan gaped as he conceded,

"It really is Superman."

Jimmy, not knowing what else to do, repeated "I told you so" over and over, and kept to the edge of the crowd, nervous as autograph books were signed and hands were shaken.

"I'm sorry I doubted you," Lucy told him before leaving with a lingering glance, and Jimmy just stood there dazed as Superman wound it up, and wrapped an arm around his shoulder for a photograph, before leaving to save the world and catch more bad guys.

At least that was how Bobby recounted the story to his mother, and she just smiled at the both of them fondly, clearly not believing a word of it.

Jimmy couldn't believe it himself, and was so lost in thought he had to be told twice that someone wanted to speak to him, on the telephone.

* * *

"It seemed like it worked okay," Clark said on Monday morning, following up from what he had told him over the telephone, and Jimmy flashed him a real smile, buoyed that a star reporter like Clark Kent would have put himself out like that for him.

"It worked swell," Jimmy beamed, continuing, "Why, for a moment, even I thought you were Superman!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	4. Just a Little Crush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I told Sammiestars back in like March (!) I'd have a go at this prompt: 'something like Jimmy has an crush on Superman (and of course doesn't know that it's Clark) and tells Clark about sexual fantasy he has with him and Superman... and Clark maybe makes it come true.' Here's a little something for it, finally.

There was a new drug working its way through Metropolis. It was on the streets, in the clubs, and Lois was determined that her expose for the Planet was going to be revelatory.

Jimmy thought he would be more than happy just to take a nice stock photo - a few pills, a glass, a hand perhaps - and be done with it. But Lois was very very persuasive. So persuasive that before he knew quite what he was doing, he had agreed to give up his Friday evening.

Lois picked his outfit, and chose his cover story. None of it made Jimmy feel any better about getting to play guinea pig.

Still, it was easier than he had expected it to be, to get hold of the tablets. It wasn't until he tried to leave, job done, that suddenly everyone was suspicious and he had no choice but to actually swallow one.

After that he was not especially sure of anything. The club spun, lights swirling around him, and he had to lean heavily against the wall, because his legs didn’t seem to want to support him.

“Lois said I’d find you here,” a voice said, appearing from nowhere, and Jimmy clung to Clark’s shirt, because he was calm and steady and smelled so good.

Perhaps he said that last aloud, because Clark led him to a more secluded corner, lips against his ear to tell him, “You’ll be alright. You just need to sit it out for a while.”

He could do that. He was good at that. And if Clark wanted to slide his arm around his shoulders, then so much the better.

Because they were friends. Best friends. Better even than him and Superman, even if they did smell kind of similar.

Clark just blinked at him, owlish behind his glasses, and Jimmy was glad the world has decided to spin a little less violently. He was dimly aware that he was talking, rambling, and it was just so comfortable to let his head fall against Clark’s shoulder.

He had thought about that when he was this close to Superman. When he had had his ass kicked and Superman swooped in to rescue him, pulled him into his arms like they were off on their honeymoon.

“I don’t think it’s quite like that,” Clark said, a blush creeping across his cheeks in a way that was really quite adorable. He was probably talking about that too, Jimmy thought, and he definitely had Clark’s hand in his, so he supposed it couldn’t make much of a difference if he shifted and squirmed, until it was his lips against Clark’s ear, and he was whispering about all the off kilter thoughts Superman had ever inspired in him.

“Do you think Lois will write about this?” He asked when everything started to slow down, a sure sign the drug was working its way out of his system. “In the paper.”

“No,” Clark said - squeaked - and Jimmy decided that that was most likely a good thing.

In the morning he had a blissful moment on waking, a moment where he didn’t remember any of it. Then it was flooding through his head, the way he had all but sat in Clark’s lap, hands all over him, spilling his deepest darkest secrets.

It was no wonder the stuff was addictive; nobody in the world would want to deal with this kind of embarrassment.

He would never be able to leave his apartment again, that was the tall and the short of it. He was going to have to spend the rest of his life a hermit, or hope that Clark fell victim to some strangely specific amnesia, and forget about how Jimmy had licked a hot stripe up the side of his neck the night before, as he demonstrated just what he dreamed about Superman doing to him.

Lois, of course, had other ideas, his phone buzzing incessantly until he gave in, and agreed to get his ass to the Daily Planet so she could finish her article. Clark’s eyes met his across the newsroom when he got there and, for a moment, they just stared at each other, like the leads in a romantic movie.

Then Lois was snapping her fingers in front of his face, irritated, and he was describing how the drug had felt, and skirting over exactly what he had said and done, under its influence.

He felt wiped out when it was over, wanted nothing more than to go home and cocoon himself in his bedcovers, and he was so busy thinking about getting home that he didn’t even notice that he was being followed. Not until it was too late, anyway, and all the self-defense classes in the world wouldn’t have been much help against three thugs, all intent on relieving him of his top of the range camera.

Adrenaline got him attempting to fight back, all the same, and he was just bracing himself for the answering fist to his jawbone when suddenly a familiar voice was talking, and his assailants were making a run for it.

“Are you alright, Jimmy?” Superman asked once they were gone, blue eyes somehow yet more beautiful than he had remembered, back when he had been in the middle of waxing lyrical to Clark about them.

Jimmy could only nod, dumbstruck, and when Superman carefully cradled his cheek to inspect the glancing blow one of the men had landed, he was completely unable to prevent the desperate noise that escaped him.

“You know, Jimmy, I don’t think you’re fine at all. Your heart rate is up; your pupils are dilated. Perhaps I should give my pal a proper once over.”

And if the noise before had been inappropriate, the stuttering gasp he managed this time was all kinds of obvious. Because this - this scenario, that cheesy dialog - had been featuring in his late night fantasies for months now, right along with the exact way Superman was biting down at his lip, as though he really was worried.

Jimmy’s head spun in response, his knees feeling like jelly. It was hardly surprising, not if the throbbing of blood somewhere less vital to the acts of standing and thinking had anything to do with it. Superman leaned in closer, crowded him back against the wall of the thankfully deserted alleyway, and whispered into his ear,

“I think we ought to continue this somewhere more private.”

Then, just like that, they were in the air, wind rushing past his ears, and the next thing they were at the door of his apartment. Jimmy fumbled with his keys, had to keep pinching himself, and turning around to check that he really wasn’t hallucinating.

But, no, Superman was still there, cheeks slightly flushed and completely, utterly perfect.

They fell through the door when he finally succeeded in getting it open, and Superman was less sure of himself now, let Jimmy take the lead and moaned, low and appreciative, when Jimmy started kissing him, walking them both backwards to the bed.

“Jimmy,” Superman gasped, when they went from vertical to horizontal, his thigh falling between Superman’s legs, and there was something about it that made Jimmy pull back for a moment. Study the man even more intensely.

There were too many distractions though. Like Superman rolling them over, so that Jimmy was the one pushed down against the mattress. The one with a searing hot tongue leaving a trail of wetness up the side of his neck, and Jimmy had to struggle for breath, the scent of Superman - masculine and exotic - filling his nostrils.

That scent was familiar, achingly so, and if Superman wasn’t so intent on stripping him of his clothing, Jimmy thought he would have had a pretty good chance of placing it. As it was all he could do was pant and moan, raise himself up on his elbows to watch as Superman kissed his newly bared flesh, moving lower and lower until Jimmy had to clench his eyes shut and bite down hard at his lip.

He didn’t want to embarrass himself.

It wasn’t quite that easy though. Not with Superman’s mouth on him, and the excited mantra, playing double time in his head, that _Superman_ actually had his _mouth_ on _him_.

“I can’t,” Jimmy whined. “I’m going to.”

Superman made a noise at that, frantic and wanting, and Jimmy was lost, pushed past breaking point.

“How did you -” Jimmy started afterwards, arm thrown over his eyes, trying to get his breathing under control. “Who told you -”

There was movement, and Jimmy removed the arm to look, to see the way that Superman’s outfit was straining out in the most immodest fashion, and then glanced up into the face of Metropolis’ hero. Except Superman was far from the calm and composed picture the city was accustomed to.

His skin was flushed, damp with perspiration, and he was tugging at the fastenings of the suit, impassioned and uncoordinated. He pushed his fingers through his hair, sweeping it across to the side and Jimmy let out a shaky breath at the sight of it.

Diverted Superman’s attention, the concerned look he flashed him, by kissing him, touching him, tasting him. Because it was so obvious now. So blindingly obvious. He knew those eyes, knew that scent. Knew the comforting solidity of that chest, after spending long hours in the club pressed against it.

He kept up the charade though, even as he teased and tormented, and it wasn’t until he was almost there, so very very close, that Jimmy couldn’t help himself, gaze flickering between blue eyes and the movements of his hand, and said,

“That’s it. Come on, Clark. Come for me.”

Clark did, shaking and shuddering, and when he looked at him in the aftermath, wary and frightened, Jimmy had to kiss him all over again because this was really just the most fantastic thing that had ever happened to him.

“You’re not angry?” Clark ventured, Kansas morals rearing up their anxious heads, before being joined by other worries, like, “You’re not going to tell anyone?”

Jimmy shook his head, kissed him yet again until Clark began to relax, recognizing his actions for reassurance, and said,

“I confessed a whole bunch of my secrets to you last night. This is a big secret, granted, but,” he smiled at Clark, the sight and the scent of his best friend doing all kinds of things to him, “I think you’re going to have to share a few more before we’re even.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


End file.
